The Battle Horn
by Vestrwald
Summary: What drives a man to fight? Is it honour, glory, women? What drives Kent of Caelin to fight? Is it loyalty to his liege, infatuation with his lady, or maybe it is the ghost of his mentor?


Note: It should be noted that this story is platonic in nature. All of those who are looking for a romantic story, please look elsewhere. Also, there will be a use of Cymraeg (Welsh to those who call it that) in this chapter. A key is given for the pronunciations and I suggest you follow that.

Consonants

c- like _k_, never _s_.

ch-like lo_ch_, never _ch_ur_ch._

dd-like _th_en, never _th_istle.

g-like _g_irl, not _g_em.

ll- as if _hl_, with a hissing _h_.

s-_s_in, never ro_s_e.

th- _th_istle- never _th_en.

Vowels

a-f_a_ther

e-m_e_t

i-p_i_n

o-n_o_t

u-p_i_n

w-l_oo_k

y-p_i_n: consonantal before vowels, except _w_.

Diphthongs

ae, ei, eu, ey- t_i_ger

aw-_ou_t

oe-_oi_l

wy-d_ewy_. Unless it follows a _g_, then like _wi_n.

_The Battle Horn_

The Wind of the North came down hard and fast, spurred on by the cold air that dwelt over the land. It met little resistance and none could stand in its path even if they wanted to, for it was cold and bitter with no love in it at all. It passed over the mountains and by the woods. The trees shock from its' passing and let loose the little nuts it held.

Indeed, this was little like the cheery autumn wind that was common during this season, for it came from Ilia, a land where the wind is never cheery and where ice covers the land. Now it looked to bring its harsh touch to a new land. It passed over Sacae and rattled the long, pale grass. It passed over the mountains and soon it changed its course west and passed by the mountains near Bern and into Lycia.

And though already it had traveled many leagues, it pressed on, and came to a camp made near the castle city of Ostia. Many bed rolls were laid about, but only one light could be seen, that being a fire burning near the eastern edge of the camp. The wind picked up speed and dove down to try and smite down the flames. It crackled with delight at the thought of the dead fire. It closed in fast and hard and it hit the fire dead on.

But the fire was strong and had new fuel in it. The wind did little more than burn itself. Humiliated and humbled, the wind turned back to the north and went back to the land it came, ruffling the tails of some horses nearby and the orange hair of a man nearby, who turned his head to keep the cold wind out of his eyes.

"The wind is changing. I hope that the scent of the horses are not carried to a bear or wolf," said the man. He had a low and grim voice that showed maturity beyond his age, for his face was young and just out of the years of adolescents. And yet his eyes were a hard brown, showing that despite his youth he had still seen many battles and hardships.

He was wearing a heavy green cloak on his shoulders to keep himself warm. Underneath the cloak one would see that he was wearing armour, brown was its colour, for though it was made of steel, the smith had leather engraved into the cuirass, pauldron and the other various parts of the armour. About his shoulder was a leather strap, which held a mighty horn on the end. It gleamed gold, silver, and bronze in the fire. And indeed, it seemed to be from an age long past.

He turned his back and went back to tending the fire, poking with a small stick to push some of the embers in to the fire. He then placed down the stick and picked up a long sword, which had been lying on his knee. The man inspected the blade in the firelight, before taking a whetstone in his hand and running it down the length of the blade, balancing the stone between the edge and the fuller. He did this in a moderate motion to take out the chips in the fine blade.

The man soon heard one of the horses give off a grumbling like noise and wandered towards the fire. The man smiled slightly at the horse, but soon replaced the kind look with the mask of an experienced knight. He quickly stood up, placing the sword carefully on the ground as he did so, and walked to the nervous horse, looking around for anything that would disturb the beast. He heard some rustling nearby and quickly turned. He saw some glowing eyes in the distance, but soon they disappeared, followed by more rusting.

_A fox, _he thought. _I'll have to add more wood to the fire to make it larger. He should not return then._

When he noticed that the horse still seemed uncomfortable, he started to murmur to it. "Calm down, Clauewin. Calm down. I am here."The horse looked at the man, relaxed, and allowed himself to be lead back to the camp. Soon the horse was back in place. The man circled around the other horses to make sure they didn't go off as well.

_All there,_ he thought. He went back to Clauewin and patted him once more. "It's a wonder none of your friends noticed our little visitor. Maybe they trust me more than you do, eh?" The horse snorted and whipped his tail at the man's face. The man chuckled and rubbed the horse by the ear.

"Kent? What are you doing?" said a voice a behind him. He turned around quickly and found himself staring at the form of a woman wrapped in a cloak, but everything else about her was lost in the shadows, for she had not come near the firelight.

And yet the man, who was named Kent, when he heard the voice, knew her. "Nothing, milady. Clauewin was just frightened by a fox. It is gone now."

The woman moved into the firelight, revealing her young face. Her hair was long, falling down her back in waterfalls of turquoise, while her eyes were like the sea, shifting in between green and blue. Her mantle was a dark grey, covering her cloths. "Really?" she asked, her face smiling slightly. It was not often she saw Kent showing affection to anyone, let alone a horse.

Kent nodded slowly and went back to the fire. He returned to sitting on the log, his sword once more in hand and the whetstone in the other. The woman sat down beside him, making Kent somewhat nervous. "Lady Lyndis," he said.

The woman, Lyndis, turned her head from the fire and looked at him, giving him her attention.

"Why are you up? It is late in the night."

She blinked for a moment, wondering what she should tell him. "I could not sleep, so I thought I would join the watch."

"I will manage, milady. You should return to bed."

Lyndis sighed. "Kent, I know you can manage. But I still will stay here. There is nothing you can do about that."

Kent sighed too. It was a pointless telling her again. She was too stubborn to listen. "Watch the fire, then," he said as he started to sharpen his sword again.

Lyndis did so for a moment, but her eyes strayed to the knight next to her. _Is he always so quiet_? she thought.

Although she had known Kent for over a year, she never noticed how quiet he was. Must have been because she always had Mark, Florina, or Sain to talk to. Her eyes took him in, looking over his clothing. It was then that she spotted the horn he wore. _I've never seen that before. _Her curiosity and interest now having something to feed on, she decided to break the silence. "Kent, what is that horn you wear?"

Kent stiffened slightly at the question. His task being his primary thought, he had forgotten about the lord next to him. "Milady?"

"The horn," she said, pointing to the object that hung around his neck. "What is it?"

Kent reached his hand down and gently picked in up. He slowly took it off his shoulder and held it before him, staring at the horn, which still glimmered in the firelight. "It is a battle horn. It is often used to signal a challenge, much like Sain's war cry." He then stretched out his arm and placed the horn into Lyndis's hands.

"How come you never use it?" Her hands slowly traced the images wrought into the horn.

Kent flinched slightly from the memoirs that came back from her questioning. "I would rather not speak of this any more, milady." He then picked up his sword again, intending to continue sharpening it.

Lyndis continued to trace the carvings in the horn. Soon her hands passed over some inscription that was on the horn. She looked at in the firelight and saw that a name was inscribed there. Her fingers lightly traced the carvings of the name while she spoke to Kent. "Kent, who is Owein?" Kent stiffened at the name.

Kent spoke again, his voice more hard, demanding attention, "I believe I told you to leave it be, milady."

Lyndis's eyes were still fixed on the horn, so she could not see his reactions. She spoke quietly to him one more, her fingers still tracing the words, "Who is he?"

Kent's hands tightened around the stone and handle of his sword. His eyes glimmered in the firelight; they were as hard as steel. "Lady Lyndis, leave it be."

Lyndis's head came up and she looked at him with tenderness in her eyes. "Kent, who?"

"Keep your tongue in your mouth!" His voice came out in a growl. It seemed as if he was ready to attack, but restrained himself when he saw the look in her eyes.

_Shock? Confusion? Fear? Fear of me?_ Thought Kent as he looked at Lyndis, whose eyes were open wide, each emotion mixed into them that he had seen.

"I'm sorry, milady." Kent quickly got up and walked away from the fire, stopping at the edge of the camp. He had left Lyndis by the fire, leaving only his sword and horn to keep her company.

_I have never seen him like that. He seemed almost like a wolf_, thought Lyndis, who still stared at the spot he had sat.

She took her eyes off the log and went back to the looking at the fire. Her thoughts drifted back to the dream she had. Indeed, she had lied to Kent before. She had a nightmare. It was the same dream she had been having for over a year now…

_The long grass of her home, Sacae, moved slightly in the breeze. The field stretched out as far as the eye could see, being only broken by the mountains to the south of Lyndis. It was a clear night, with a bright full moon and stars covering the sky. The air was crisp on her nose and it carried the smell of horses and burning wood. That meant a clan was nearby. Lyndis's sea like eyes scanned the horizon, stopping when she finally saw a row of buildings nearby. _

_Lyndis made her to the settlement, moving swiftly and quietly like a fox through the tall grass. When she arrived, Lyndis saw that the settlement was made up of about a twenty buildings of thatched straw and stone, surrounded by a great wall of made of timber from the forests far way forests of Gyldanland, a small part of Sacae to the north. A small dirt path wound its way through the houses to the center of the village. In the center stood a great hall made of large stones and planks of wood with thatched with straw making up the roof. It glittered in the night, for worked into it were emblems made of gold, depicting the proud history of the Sacaens. And all though no standard was being flown, Lyndis easily recognized the place. _

_It was her tribe, the Lorca, who were descendents of Hanon's second son, Ecgtheow the Frank. Lyndis reached out her hand and brushed it over the stone and wood of one of the nearby houses. She felt the roughness of the stone and she would feel the splinters of the wood. Lyndis smiled as she realized she was home. She hopped to her feet and flew by the other houses, making way to the giant hall in the center where her father, Hassar, Chief of the Lorca, was sure to be. Lyndis soon reached the hall with no trials, but in the back of her mind she found it odd that nobody was out, even if it was late at night. She sighed with joy at seeing the emblem of a golden horse etched above the door. A grin spread her face as she charged the heavy wooden doors and threw them open. _

_Whatever breath she had escaped as soon as she saw the sight before her. Her father, Hassar the Steadfast lay before her, gripping his stomach, the chair that he normally sat in over turned. His long evergreen hair was pasted to his head with sweat and his dark cobalt eyes held a deep pain. Hassar didn't even notice that his daughter stood in the doorway. To him, all that existed was the pain is his stomach. Beside him lay his wife and Lyndis's mother, Madelyn the Outsider, whose slim and fair face was blank of anything, even life. _

_Her normally bright azure eyes were dull and her lips that once smiled as bright as the moon were stuck forever in a state of horror. Beside her lay a gold and pearl drinking horn. And though Lyndis had seen this scene many times before, she still cried out and ran to her mother's side. _"Mother! Mother, wake up!"_ Her voice was choked with sobs and her eyes stained with tears. Desperately Lyndis shook her mother, but there was no response. Madelyn the Outsider was dead. _

_Lyndis looked over at her father. His moaning had stopped and so had his movements. Lyndis crawled over and looked at his face. His eyes had rolled up into his head. Hassar was dead as well. Lyndis felt more tears coming, but she raised her arm and wiped them away. _No one of Sacaen blood sheds tears in any situation, _she thought. She gently rolled him over on to his back and closed his eyes with her fingers. She did the same for her mother. She then folded their hands over their chests and put their weapons at their feet._

_Having done this, Lyndis then started to pray. The words of the Plains of Sacae easily rolled off her tongue as she muttered the ancient prayer for her Mother and Father. The words were just as how the plainsmen were like, swift and stern. The prayer lasted for but a minute and by the time it was done, Lyndis had tears in her eyes. She wiped them off with the back of her arm, but some more took their place. Slowly she laid her head on her mother's hands and closed her eyes, but no comfort came from them._

_Lyndis then became aware of the smell in the air. _Is something burning, _she thought. She then also heard cries coming from outside of the great hall, as well as a rushing sound. Lyndis rose and ran out of the hall and looked about. At the other side of the settlement a fire had started. She heard someone shout, _"Burn the tents! Pay them back for the life of Ketil they took a summer ago! Cut all that you meet and let the fields of these dogs run red!"

_Lyndis rushed past the houses and reached for her sword. _I'll make these bandits pay for murdering my family! _Her hand came upon nothing but air. _Where is my blade?_ She looked down at her hip. Nothing. She was carrying no sword! Lyndis muttered a small curse and tried to turn around, but her legs had already carried her to the scene. _

_She could see no bandits. All that she saw was a cluster of houses set to flames. Anything else was hidden in smoke, for the hidden blew hard and kept the soot close to the ground. But she still heard the sound of laughing and war cries, but now added were the howls of hounds out for blood. The smoke hid them. _If I charge through the smoke, I might be able to take them by surprise and get a weapon.

_She slowly closed her eyes and took a breath. Lyndis of Caelin ran into the smoke and soot like lightening. And though her mouth filled with the bitter taste and her eyes filled with tears from the as, she continued onward. She soon passed out of the smoke and coughed as she wiped her eyes. Lyndis still heard the cries, but mixed in was a strange hissing noise and what seemed to be the batting of wings._

_And then she saw them, the bandits. There was at least twenty, with more coming from the plains and through the wooden gate of the wall. Each man seemed as tall as a tree and as hard as a mountain. All carried lighting in their hands and fire belched from their eyes. Blood ran from their lips and their cries were like those of the dead. And all their voices rose up in one cry, that being of _"Slaughter the Children of Ecgtheow! Burn their homes and slay the children!"_ They drove before them great grey dogs that had eyes of lightening and fire came forth from where ever their paws treaded._

_Lyndis's eyes scanned the crowd. She could feel her knees quiver. _"They are not bandits! They're monsters!" _Once more she looked at the bandits. But then she heard a cry in the back. She slowly turned her head and saw it. A Dragon from the past was what her eyes witnessed._

_It was as tall as a mountain and at least as long. The Dragons' mouth was lined with teeth the size of house and as sharp as silver blades. It was covered in an impenetrable armour of crimson, and its eyes blazed white with heat. Its back was cover with flames and two large bat wings flapped constantly, feeding the flames with the fuel it needed. Crimson fire ever bleached forth from its maw and it was slowly setting the plains she loved a flame. It was a nightmare to behold, a creature from the world of myth come to life._

_And then it saw her. It saw her, a direct descendant of Hanon the Dreamer, who was its foe a millennia ago. The Dragons' eyes alit with a new fury and more fire seemed to come from them. It reared up on its legs and let loose a terrible scream that should only have belonged to a wraith from the Æledpytt. The ground shook and the once black sky now seemed to be drenched in blood. All that stood near it perished in an instant for its rage was so great to see this child of its old foe. And then it charged Lyndis, breathing only death. _

_The ground trembled and cracked as it moved. Lightning came down from the heavens. There were no more tents and no more bandits. All that was left was Lyndis and the Dragon. The flames in its jaws now flashed a blinding azure. They danced around its teeth for a brief moment, crackles of energy shooting out into the air. And then the dragon reared back its head and then whipped it forward._

_The flames shot forth like lightning. Lyndis could feel the flames as the danced toward her. Her mouth opened to scream in pain as the lashed around her, but nothing came out. The last thing she would see was the dragon surrounded by white flames. And then her world turned to glass and shattered in a brilliance of white._

Lyndis shook her head, forcing the thoughts away. She had enough trouble with the dreams sleeping. "There is no need to bring them into the waking world as well," she muttered. Lyndis sat there silently, prodding the fire to make sure it stayed a live. After a brief moment of this she started to talk to her self again.

"But what of that Dragon? I've been dreaming of that for over a year, before I even saw one." Lyndis quieted herself once more, her face contorted in deep thought. _Could it be true, those old Sacaen legends about the Children of Hanon? Could they have been given the gift of foresight and that it has passed down the line to me?_

Lyndis shook her head again to reorganize her thoughts. _No. It must be from the events that have been happening. Finding out that Wallace slew the bandits and this Dragon trouble with Nergal have only been wrapped up into one in the dream. _Lyndis blinked as she looked at the fire. _But I have been having this dream before I knew what a dragon looked like… _

Her thoughts were broken though when she heard some sound. Lyndis reached for her sword, the Mani Katti, but stopped when she heard the sound again. _That is a voice! _She listened closely to the voice. It was a rough voice and it sounded like it was _...is that singing? _She sat there for a moment, wondering who could be singing at that hour in the night, when she remembered Kent.

Lyndis quickly turned and looked about for the knight. At first she could not see Kent, but her ears helped guide her eyes over to the horses. Kent was sitting by them, but he did not seem to be singing. Lyndis slowly got up and walked towards him. She fancied she saw some wisps of smoke sail into the night sky by Kent. She crept up slowly behind him with the horn in hand and sat at the other end of the row of horses.

Lyndis now heard the words clearly and indeed it was Kent singing. But the meaning of the words was lost to her, for it was sung in the language of Lycia, which she had yet to fully master.

_Atgoffii gwnei ti mawr Owein?_

_Atgoffii gwnei eiddo dewrder?_

_Pa gweinyddason e Caelin Ardalydd?_

_Canasan eiddo corn clir ym y tir._

_Marchogasan e oddi ar marw ymlaen pridd_

_oer, ennilledig urddas ym tranc._

_Gadawasan e tu ôl eiddo euraid_

_corn a teulu efo trist tynghedau. _

Kent paused and Lyndis half expected him to continue, but he just sighed and remained silent. And so they sat like that for a while, the only sound being the nicker of the horses, the crackle of the fire, and the howl of the retreating wind. Lyndis finally broke the silence and spoke quietly to him, "What was that song about?"

Kent stiffened slightly and turned around, but relaxed when he saw Lyndis's cloak and hair. "It was but a small song, milady." He paused a bit, wondering what to do next. "I do not wish to speak of it."

Lyndis sighed, her breath turning into vapour as it left her fair lips. Lyndis rose slowly and silently from resting spot. She walked silently over to Kent and put her hand on his shoulder. She noted with some surprise that Kent had a pipe in his hand, which was the source of the mist she saw earlier. "Kent, please tell me. I don't know anything about your past. Please tell me." Kent half expected her to kneel and embrace him, but Lyndis remained standing, the wind forcing the cloak to wrap around her and her hair to dance like the ocean. Kent sighed once more.

"Let me see the horn." Lyndis handed it to him silently and watched as he held up to the night sky. Kent studied it intently, as if the horn was all that mattered in Elibe and nothing else. He then placed it about his shoulder once more and spoke; it seemed as though he was lecturing her on a subject of history, but in his voice Lyndis heard a hint of a wistful sound, as if this very subject was the creed he lived by, "It was a small part of a long lament in Caelin known as Y _Glew Marchogion chan Caelin_. It means _The Brave Knights of Caelin _in the Common Tongue."

Lyndis nodded and spoke, "That is the verse written for the Knight Commanders of Caelin, with every Knight Commander from Gwalchmei the Swift in the times of Peredur the Judicious to you in the times of Hausen the Resilient." Kent nodded as he heard her speak of what history she had learned of the lament.

"Yes. And Owein, the knight sung of in that small part, was Knight Commander during Hausen's early reign. He was the one who gave Lord Wallace his knighthood, milady. He was also my mothers' father. And this horn was his." Lyndis did not know what to say to such a revelation, so she just nodded her head. The shock of finding out Kent was from such a noble line was new to her, since he gave no indication to it before.

_But that does explain why he always has a stern mind. He was related to a man of great distinction, _thought Lyndis.

Kent continued with his story, "My parents died from the sickness that struck Elibe many years ago. I was three winters old at the time and the only living relatives I had were my grandfather, Owein and grandmother, Gwendolyn."

Lyndis nodded and slowly sat down next to Kent. He slowly put the pipe to his mouth again and chewed on its end for a moment before continuing. "My grandfather had left his title by that time and another man had taken his place as Commander Knight. When we first met, my grandfather took a great interest in me and decided I would become a knight like he once was. Everything I learned about being a knight, I learned from my grandfather. He taught me how to fight, how to ride, and how to speak."

Lyndis nodded and pulled her knees up to her chin. Kent took an edge of her cloak and wrapped it around her as he continued to speak, "He even taught me how to hunt. I recall once when we left the village to do so. I was about ten winters old. We traveled through the woods for three days just to hunt for a white stag that nearly ran over my grandmother when she was out walking."

"And when we finally did catch up to it, we let lose the dogs and pursued it on horseback. We caught it by a river and my grandfather took off its' head with one swipe of his sword." Kent then chuckled lightly, the sound rolling from the back of his throat as if it were a wave upon the sea. "The stag was too heavy and large to care home, so we let the dog have what they would, cooked some for that night, and then buried the rest. We took the head home as a prize of sorts. But grandmother would not let us in with the head, so we had to sell it in town. I suspected my grandfather would be upset, but he just laughed when I asked him."

His eyes flashed with the brief amusement of the event, but it was quickly subdued. Kent sighed and blew off a bit of smoke from his pipe. "Then, when I was thirteen winters old, a merchant from a port city in Etruria came to the house and asked for my grandfathers' assistance. Ilia had been covered in a thick snow that winter. There were little crops to feed the people, and the merchants wanted to take some north to that frozen land. And they needed someone to command the escort of mercenaries. My grandfather readily agreed to do so and left with him."

Kent closed his eyes for a moment and Lyndis thought she saw the look of a young lad barely into adolescents, rather than the tall knight that rode in the saddle to battle. Kent opened them again as he spoke, "Grandfather gave me his horn before he left, since I was to become a squire soon. He told me he expected great thinks from me and that he would trust that I would not use this horn until I had earned the privilege by at least earning valour equal to his own."

Lyndis nodded and spoke quietly, her voice barely being heard above the wind, "It sounds like he was a very demanding man."

Kent nodded in agreement. "He was. But it pushed all who knew him to be better then they thought themselves to be. He was the man who made legends and heroes." Kent sighed and chewed on his pipe once more. "That was the last time I ever saw him.

"He died on the journey, protecting a town called Sindriarfjord from the Ilian Wolves. Sindriarfjord was where the merchants had unloaded their cargo." Lyndis looked at Kent to make sure he was doing well, but it seemed to her that as she looked at him, his face hardened and became as hard as steel. It once more seemed as though Kent no longer sat beside her, but rather it was a stranger who had seen many hardships and had become none the better from them. "The merchants buried him there in a grave with no mark. They had been back from the journey for several months before my grandmother and I heard how he died. All we could do for him was to hold a Cynulliad for him, which is gathering together of the relations and listening to a song in remembrance of the dead when the body is lost."

"I still can hear the pipes as they played his verse from _Y_ _Glew_ _Marchogion chan Caelin. _My grandmother stood beside me, dressed in black with her melancholy grey hair hidden beneath the hood of her cloak and her pale eyes red with tears. Lord Wallace stood on my other side, dressed in blazing silver with the naval cloak wrapped around his shoulders." Kent paused for a moment. "To me, the world was over that day. My mentor was dead and the man who he had given his life for did not even have the honour to tell us about his death or to come to the Cynulliad. After his death, all that was left to me was duty." Kent blew a small amount of smoke and with that simple motion Lyndis saw his face turn from the steely eyed stranger to Kent, Knight of Caelin.

"That is the end of the tale concerning this horn," he said. Lyndis nodded and shifted her weight to get into a more comfortable position. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and comfort him for his loss, but she knew this was Kent.

Instead, she whispered to him her pity, "I am sorry for your loss Kent. Owein must have been a great man." Kent only nodded. "What ever happened to Gwendolyn?" she asked.

Kent closed his eyes, working hard to hide what ever sorrow that was creeping its way out. "She died last winter when I was coming back from Sacae with you and Sain. She had been buried for several weeks when we returned to Caelin." Kent chewed softly on the edge of his pipe, his eyes still closed to the world around him. _I am glad I told her,_ thought Kent. _ If there is any one who can feel the same pain as I, it is Lady Lyndis._

Kent felt a slight pressure on his shoulders, as if someone had laid a bar upon them. His snapped open and he looked at Lyndis. Her arm was wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him into a slight hug. "You and I are a lot a like, Kent," she said. "We both hide our pain and we both never tell anyone what causes it." She looked over at Kent, and it seemed to him that her eyes seemed to shine silver in the starlight.

"P-Perhaps," he stuttered in reply. Kent could feel his face turn crimson from the embrace. Lyndis did not notice it, for she was looking at the horn again.

"Kent, why is it I have never seen or heard you using this horn?" Her eyes looked up at his and stared at them. Kent turned away quickly and rose, breaking the embrace Lyndis had on him.

Kent sighed and shock off the feeling that had come over him as Lyndis embraced him. _My grandfather would frown if he knew I was infatuated with my liege, _he thought as he tapped out the smoking herb that was in his pipe and placed it in his belt once more.Kent walked over to Clauewin and patted the horse on his back. Kent spoke after a moment of silence, "My grandfather told me to never use it till I had earned the fame and prowess that he had earned. I have yet to do so, milady."

Lyndis rose and walked silently over to where he stood. "But you have all ready obtained the title of Knight Commander of Caelin. You are the youngest to ever receive that title. And few other commanders were as skilled as you in all the history of Caelin."

Kent nodded slowly, consenting to her point. "I may have valour in this age, but my grandfather fought against men of better stock then I do. I may have the title he once had, put his skills are what I seek. He was said to have unhorsed three men with one spear."

Lyndis remained silent, for she was deep in thought and was searching in her mind for proof of Kent's strength. A small grin came to her face after a moment. "I remember when you once unhorsed four men with only one spear." She gazed at Kent with triumph dancing in her ocean like eyes. "And I am sure that your grandfather would tell you that a good knight has confidence in his own skill."

Kent remained silent, his mind finding no more excuses for his argument. He sighed and said, "Lady Lyndis, I will think about what you have said. But look, it is nearly midnight. I must awake Sir Marcus, the next watch is his. And sleep you do need."

Lyndis opened her mouth to argue, but out came a yawn instead. She placed her hand over her mouth and nodded slightly. She turned to return to her pavilion, her mind all ready in the process of resting. Kent stood by Clauewin, his hands still patting the beast. "Good night, Clauewin. Rest well," he muttered to the beast as he turned and left. Kent paused for moment by the fire, picked up his sword, and walked off, his mind in thought._ We share much in common, in that we hide our pain. What pain is she hiding?_ He sighed and shook his head. _I will question her of it later. I must find rest before the night is out. _

He stopped by Marcus's bed roll and awoke him, and then moved to return to his own. But Kent stopped for a moment, and then went to the edge of the camp, his face turned towards where his grandfather was buried, to the north, to Ilia. He muttered the verse once more in honour of his grandfather. But before he turned to return to his pavilion, he muttered "Bwrw cenllysg 'r 'n fuddugol farw!" The wind swept up the words and carried them over the mountains, over to the grave of a man who died in a foreign land.

_Diwedd_


End file.
